Written by Meng Kit Tang.
Image credit: National Taiwan Museum, Shin Kong Life Tower & Fubon Chengzhong Building 20190814 by Beisaleigh HGIIarie/ Wikimedia Commons, license: CC BY-SA 4.0.
Taiwan stands at a paradoxical moment in its democratic journey.
On paper, the island continues to rank among the freest societies in Asia. Freedom House’s 2025 report gave Taiwan a 94 out of 100, categorising it as “Free,” while Freedom on the Net ranked it 79 out of 100, leading Asia in online liberties.
Yet the past two years have brought increasing scrutiny of what critics call “Green overreach” under President Lai Ching-te’s administration. Citizens, journalists, and international observers are asking whether the island’s defensive posture against China risks undermining the freedoms that define it.
The tension is palpable.
High-profile detentions, vague national security statutes, and administrative interventions coexist with legislative gridlock and a partly paralysed judiciary. While these measures differ fundamentally from the KMT-era White Terror, they echo some historical authoritarian patterns: legal ambiguity, administrative overreach, and media-amplified stigma.
Taiwan faces a dual challenge: to safeguard national security against a powerful external threat while preventing internal practices from eroding civil liberties and institutional integrity.
Historical Echoes: Lessons from Martial Law
Between 1949 and 1987, Taiwan endured the White Terror, a period of intense political repression under the Kuomintang’s (KMT) martial law. It was the longest continuous period in modern history.
Over 140,000 individuals were arbitrarily detained, with thousands executed or imprisoned on vague charges of “sedition” or “subversion”. Laws such as the Sedition Act and the early National Security Law targeted suspected communists, independence advocates, intellectuals, and even ordinary citizens whose casual remarks were deemed disloyal.
The media was tightly controlled, amplifying accusations and fostering public stigma, while pervasive surveillance and informant networks encouraged widespread self-censorship. Careers were destroyed through blacklisting, and families endured intergenerational trauma, as seen after the 228 Incident, when elite figures were purged to consolidate KMT control.
Today, Taiwan does not replicate these practices: military courts no longer try civilians, one-party rule has ended, and mass ideological purges are absent.
Yet the lesson lies not in scale but in method.
Vague laws, executive discretion, and selective media framing can subtly pressure speech and civic engagement, normalising restrictions under the guise of security. Historical tools, such as administrative decrees used to exile or detain without full trials, parallel modern measures, such as residency revocations or incommunicado holds, where procedural shortcuts prioritise expediency over due process.
Ironically, the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), which was born from the anti-authoritarian activism of the 1980s, including the Dangwai movement and the Kaohsiung Incident, now faces criticisms reminiscent of the regime it opposed.
This underscores a broader democratic truth: even parties committed to freedom can adopt practices that, if unchecked, erode civil liberties, especially in high-threat environments where national unity justifies expanded power.
Contemporary Legal and Administrative Overreach
Legal ambiguity and administrative discretion have emerged as flashpoints in Taiwan’s governance.
The National Security Act and its proposed amendments exemplify this tension. Recent proposals threaten fines for promoting unification with China and empower platforms to remove content deemed “misleading” or endangering national security.
January 2026 amendments to the Counter-Terrorism Financing Act broadened the definition of terrorism, giving authorities wider latitude in enforcement. While intended to counter infiltration and hybrid threats from Beijing, these measures create uncertainty over the boundaries of lawful expression.
These are justified by escalating PRC hybrid threats. A January 2026 National Security Bureau report noted a 6% rise in cyberattacks, often aligned with PLA patrols and political events to “disrupt services and undermine morale.”
Yet the broad scope of targeting actions that “undermine public trust and societal functions” risks blurring lines between infiltration and lawful expression, potentially chilling political debate.
Human stories illustrate the stakes.
Yaya, also known as Liu Zhenya, a Chinese influencer, was expelled after posting online in favour of “peaceful reunification” with hints of force. Authorities revoked her residency, citing national security, without filing charges or allowing a court hearing. The media amplified her as a “security risk,” prompting her voluntary departure and damaging her career.
Critics saw this as punishing political speech, bypassing due process, and chilling online debate, echoing White Terror-era exiles.
Lin Chen-yu, a CTi News journalist, has been held incommunicado since January 2026 under the National Security and Anti-Corruption Acts for allegedly bribing military personnel for sensitive information.
His detention, extended without public evidence, and media framing as a “communist spy” exemplify the chilling effects on investigative journalism, even absent proven wrongdoing.
Ko Wen-je, former Taipei mayor and TPP founder, was held nearly a year incommunicado from August 2024 to September 2025 on corruption charges tied to redevelopment projects and alleged donation misuse. Bail was granted only after health concerns, and restrictions were lifted in December 2025, though his verdict remains pending. Critics argue that prolonged judicial processes sidelined a centrist opposition leader during politically sensitive periods, including the 2025 recall campaigns.
The case illustrates how anti-corruption laws, even outside explicit national security concerns, can be used to neutralise political actors through the sheer weight of ongoing investigation; a tactic reminiscent of White Terror-era scrutiny.
Media amplification compounds these pressures.
Selective leaks and partisan framing intensify pre-trial stigma, discouraging journalists, academics, and civil society actors from engaging with sensitive topics. Citizens may self-censor, and platforms face aggressive moderation to avoid potential liability. Over time, these dynamics narrow permissible public discourse and chill pluralistic debate, even in a society formally recognised for freedom.
Institutional and Democratic Implications
The consequences of overreach extend beyond individual cases.
Constitutional protections for speech and press, enshrined in Article 11, face indirect pressure whenever security concerns override expression. Taiwan’s democracy remains vibrant, but its resilience is tested when institutions designed to balance power experience strain.
Legislative and judicial gridlock magnifies these pressures. Defence and special budgets, including an NT$1.25 trillion proposal spanning late 2025 to early 2026, repeatedly stalled due to opposition blockade.
The Constitutional Court has struggled amid stalled nominations and quorum disputes. In December 2025, a self-revival ruling upheld in January 2026 allowed five justices to invalidate an opposition-imposed 10-justice quorum, even as three others boycotted the session.
Premier Cho Jung-tai’s refusal to countersign revenue-allocation amendments triggered impeachment motions against President Lai. These episodes highlight how executive-legislative friction and judicial dysfunction can leave democratic safeguards underutilised even as security measures expand.
Security overreach gains traction when constitutional arbitration and legislative cooperation falter. Measures intended to protect Taiwan against external threats may unintentionally weaken the internal cohesion needed for democratic resilience. Public perceptions of arbitrary or excessive action risk undermining both government legitimacy and trust in the legal system.
At the same time, partisan polarisation intensifies, further complicating legislative compromise and increasing the likelihood that temporary security measures become entrenched.
Recommendations: Guardrails, Not Blindfolds
Taiwan does not need sweeping new powers. It needs sharper limits on the ones it already uses.
First, draw hard legal lines around national security enforcement. National security law should specify conduct, thresholds, and procedures with precision. Speech alone should not trigger administrative punishment without judicial review. Detention, residency revocation, and platform takedowns must meet clear evidentiary standards, applied consistently and reviewed quickly. Ambiguity does not strengthen security. It shifts power away from law and toward discretion.
Second, restore real checks on executive power. Incommunicado detention and prolonged pretrial custody should be exceptional, time-limited, and publicly justified. Courts must act early, not after damage is done. When liberty is restricted in the name of security, the burden of proof belongs to the state, and it should be visible, reasoned, and contestable.
Third, depoliticise security through shared ownership. National defence cannot function as a partisan instrument. Cross-party mechanisms for reviewing security enforcement, paired with civil society and media scrutiny, would reduce suspicion and rebuild trust. A democracy deters best when its citizens believe the rules apply evenly, especially under stress.
Conclusion
Taiwan is not choosing between freedom and security. It is choosing how it understands power under pressure.
Beijing’s pressure is real and relentless. Any responsible government must respond. But when vague laws replace clear standards, when detention outruns due process, and when administrative power moves faster than judicial review, the balance shifts. These are not technical glitches. They reshape how citizens experience the state.
This is not the White Terror. There are no mass arrests or military tribunals. The resemblance lies in method, not scale: legal ambiguity, media-driven stigma, procedural shortcuts justified by urgency. Repression rarely arrives all at once. It advances incrementally, normalised through repetition.
The irony is sharp. The DPP rose in opposition to these practices. Today, under external threat and internal polarisation, it risks reviving fragments of the culture it once resisted. That does not make Taiwan authoritarian. But it shows how quickly democracies under strain adopt control-first instincts.
Taiwan’s true strategic advantage has never been missiles or budgets. It has been trust in courts, elections, and a society that argues fiercely yet accepts outcomes. Once that trust erodes, deterrence weakens from within.
Authoritarian systems centralise power to feel safe. Democracies endure by dispersing it, even when that feels slow. External threats test borders. Internal shortcuts test democracies. And it is usually the second that decides what survives.
This article was published as part of a special issue on “Thirty-Nine Years after Martial Law: Fractured Truths, Silence, and Unconscious Forgetting“
Meng Kit Tang is a Singaporean freelance analyst and commentator who works as an aerospace engineer. He graduated from the S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies (RSIS), NTU, Singapore in 2025. He is also a regular contributor to Taiwan Insight.
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